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New Boots.
A long walk down a short beach.
Him: Are those brand new boots? 
Me: Yeah, you like them?

Him: No they look terrible.
Me: I got them for free.

Him: You really should have worn them in bit, they are going to destroy your feet.
Me: She’ll be right mate.

Looking at the satellite maps online it seemed like a manageable distance. 

Park the car at the creek, hike around the headland to a beautiful sandy beach, a short walk north east to another headland, around that and we’ll arrive at another creek and our desired camping spot. No problems.
As soon as we rounded the first headland it was clear that we had misjudged the scale of the maps, it was at least four times as long as I had imagined. Carrying a few days worth of food and water, our tents, cooking equipment, cameras, torches, clothes and whatever else we couldn’t live without, our ‘short walk’ had turned into a swampy death march but there would be no turning back.

He was right too, the burning pain in my boots was becoming harder and harder to ignore. A few hours later we arrived at the camp spot, beautiful, not a soul in eye or ear shot. I soaked it in, I’d earned it, my new boots had rubbed a twenty cent size blister on the heal of each foot. Two days later I walked back in bare feet.
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